


Flickering Out

by RollingTomorrow



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2522855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RollingTomorrow/pseuds/RollingTomorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wife of Patriarch Lars Long Dau may not have been the strongest woman, but she always a kind and caring mother. After her husband’s death, she managed to go on, even if only for the sake of her son. Wingul may have believed himself to be prepared to lead his people, but nothing could have steeled him for how he found her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flickering Out

**Author's Note:**

> There aren't really graphic depictions of violence in this piece, but there is a trigger warning for suicide.

She wouldn't leave her room and she wouldn't so much as unlock her door for servants to bring food inside. He approached the door at a slow, almost reluctant pace. He didn't feel grief over his uncle's death; it was a fact he could betray to no one, certainly not his mother. Her current state made even just knocking on the door feel disgusted.

"Mother?"

He waited, letting his lack of tolerance for the situation show in his expression. He had to keep an imperturbable expression when anyone else was around, but the solitude in the hallway let him not hide everything. As more seconds ticketed away on the grandfather clock at the end of the hall, he knocked a second time. Only silence responded to him.

"Mother, are you up?" he asked, deliberately keeping his voice even.

"Please go," a weak voice replied.

The response was so muffled that he pressed his ear to the door to discern them. "Mother, open the door, I can barely hear you."

"I don't want to see anyone," she said, her voice louder this time.

"You won't even see me?" he questioned.

Despite the frustrating situation, his irritation was replaced with a sullen weight as he heard her voice cracking. As disappointing as she was being, she was still his mother. He leaned against the door, watching the sky darken through the window at the far end of the hall as he waited for a response. There was a long stretch of silence before she spoke again.

"Please go," she repeated.

He stepped back and stared at the door for a long moment. He was closed out both literally and on another level; she didn't even want to see him. He wasn't sure if there was any point in talking to the closed door, but did so anyway.

"Another servant is coming to bring you dinner tonight," he said. "Let her in when she comes."

His wiser said told him that no response would come, but he still lingered there a few seconds longer than needed. He let out a sigh and remembered his rank as he turned his back on his mother's room. He had duties to attend to.

~oOo~

At first, the sight of the maid made him frown. His first thought was that it couldn't be too important if someone with no rank was coming to him, but he dismissed the idea from his head as quickly as it came. It sounded too much like something his father would have said.

"Do you have something to report, miss?" Lin questioned, keeping his tone calm.

"I'm sorry to pester you, Patriarch Lin," she said, bowing hastily. "It's just…it's about your mother."

"Please go on," he said, choosing his words carefully.

"She was asking for you yesterday, but today she forbid anyone from entering her quarters. She explicitly said not to even allow you in," she said, adding the last part with visible apprehensiveness.

"So you want me to go to her," Lin said.

"Y-yes. Before, she just wouldn't leave or eat, but this is even worse," she said worriedly. "She hasn't eaten in days."

"I see," he said, without all the sympathy that he should have. "Thank you for your report, I'll see if I can reason with her. You may return to your duties."

The maid bowed and left, but Lin's gaze fell back to his desk as he reached for the army budget paperwork. As much as knew that he should feel more sympathetic toward his mother, the memories of when Patriarch Lars died were still too fresh in his mind. She grieved, she did what a patriarch's wife was expected to, but she did not starve herself or lock herself away. Yet since one of his uncles, Bruno, died, she had fallen into a despair so deep that she could not be coaxed to leave her room or even eat.

He stared at the numbers and equipment orders for just a few moments, unable to focus upon them. He pulled a drawer open instead and reached for the scroll that was waiting for his attention inside. He could sense Nils fidgeting, shuffling around the back of the room before he spoke up.

"Master Lin, you need to go to her," he said quietly.

Lin closed his eyes and frowned as he pushed his uncle's will aside. He could feel Nils studying his expression even before he opened his eyes again.

"I'll try to check on her tonight."

"She'll let you in, you know how much she adores you," Nils said, smiling reassuringly, though he couldn't believe the optimism.

~oOo~

Despite his promise, it was still late in the evening before he made the trip to his mother's quarters. Two generals had insisted upon having meetings with him, a messenger arrived with a report from a spy in Gaius' camp, and a beast tamer came storming into his office expecting Lin to decide which of his hen's chicks were fathered by which of his three roosters – as if being patriarch made him aware of  _everything_.

His mother's room was the farthest on the end of the hall, for she had once pleaded with his father to have a room with windows on two sides. He walked down the hall alone, finding the solitude somewhat enjoyable after being surrounded by people with questions at every waking moment. This time, when he knocked on her door, he already had the master keys to all of the bedrooms in hand.

"Mother?" he called out.

He waited a few moments for a response before knocking on the door again. It was becoming a familiar routine, calling out to her and being greeted by silence. She tried not to be too impatient, but he suspected that she would attend his uncle's funeral, if nothing else.

"Mother, I need to speak with you," he said, knocking again. "Please open the door."

More minutes ticked away as he waited for her to respond. He listened carefully, if he would hear the sound of movement or her voice on the other side of the door. There were several parcels piled outside of her door, deliveries that not even the servants could get in and give to her. She'd fastened both locks on the door, keeping everyone out.

"I'm unlocking the door and coming in," he said warningly.

The keys scraped inside of the locks and the mechanisms within were released. He pushed the door open and stepped inside hesitantly, but he caught sight of her in just a moment. All of the candles were out but he could see that she laid upon the floor, with her long hair down and fanning around her. She was dressed in her best royal attire, which also spread out wide around her. Regardless, he could still recognize the blood surrounding her body.

He ran to her side as quickly as he would if being pursued by an enemy soldier, putting the candle aside so hastily that it nearly fell from the candle holder. He dropped to his knees beside her, thinking to move her carefully as he looked for the source of the wound. He saw a gash curling around the side of her wrist and reached for her hand, but dropped it when he felt that her hand was as cold as the snow in Auj Oule. The cold wetness of the blood seeped into the fabric of his pants, as icy and lifeless feeling as her skin.

Not quite accepting the reality of the situation, he brushed the stray strands of hair from her face and tried to feel for a pulse on her neck. His logical side told him it was pointless, that he was much, much too late, but he still tried in vain. She was as pale as the stone used to build Undine's temple and just as cold. He looked for any sign that there had been a struggle, but the only wounds were the ones cut into her thin wrists. He was utterly powerless to help her.

She'd already bled out. She was gone, unquestionably so, and just as definitively ended by her own hand. He looked down to see a knife that had been his uncle's loosely clasped in her other hand. He didn't want to believe that she was really there before him, lifeless as if in a nightmare. On top of that, he didn't want to believe that he had been so useless, too late to have made any difference.

**Author's Note:**

> In Wingul's side story, we learn that his mother committed suicide shortly after his father and three uncles were killed in battle against Gaius. He was only twelve and saddled with the responsibilities of being patriarch to the Long Dau clan when it happened.
> 
> This idea was my first one for her death since arriving too late or being completely unable to change an inevitable fate can make someone can make someone feel so powerless.


End file.
